A Bit of Lace
by PhoenixMist209
Summary: One minute, Vicky is a normal girl living in a normal world and the next minute she finds out she is a witch! Well, she always knew she was different. Watch how she goes to Hogwarts and makes new friends and has new adventures, with a few ups and downs along the way... This is my first fanfic and I would love to know your thoughts and opinions. Read and Review, please!
1. Prologue: Broken

_**Disclaimer: **__** Weasley's are red, Ravenclaw's are blue, I don't own Harry Potter and neither do you!**_

_**A Bit of Lace**_

_**Prologue: Broken**_

I wanted you to know I love the way you laugh  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away  
I keep your photograph, I know it serves me well  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain

'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome  
And I don't feel right when you're gone away

You're gone away  
You don't feel me here anymore

The worst is over now and we can breathe again  
I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away  
There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain

'Cause I'm broken when I'm open  
And I don't feel like I am strong enough  
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome  
And I don't feel right when you're gone away

You're gone away  
You don't feel me here anymore

_**Broken, Seether ft. Amy Lee**_

A black haired man walked through the rain. He came to a stop in front of a large suburban house. He did not go inside, but stood outside in the rain watching the scene indoors through the window. A beautiful red haired woman was playing with a little baby with identical red hair. The child was laughing as the woman and her husband pulled bizarre faces trying to make the child forget about the raging thunderstorm outside. Listening to the child's melodious laugh, Sirius couldn't help but smile himself.

Oh! How he longed to hold his daughter, but he knew he could not. If anyone from the Dark side found out that he had had a Muggle lover and now a half-blood daughter, he could lose both forever. Helena understood why no one could find out about her and he baby and why they could not be together anymore. The only people who knew about them were his best friends James Potter and Remus Lupin.

Now Helena had a new Muggle husband who had adopted her daughter as his own and loved them both very much and watching the two of them enjoy and play with the child, Sirius knew he could not have given his daughter a better life had he still been in it, what with his pure blood mania crazy family and a war against a deranged hypocritical psychopath who was on the warpath against anyone who was not of pure wizard blood.

Maybe one day, after this bloody war was over, he'd meet his daughter and try to be the father he should have been from the beginning, but until then he could never go near, he would watch them from afar and keep them as safe as possible.

Finally, Sirius decided to leave, but before he Apparated he conjured a piece of parchment and wrote a quick letter to his little daughter, hoping Helena would save it and give it to her when she was old enough. From then on, he vowed to send his daughter a letter at least every month if he could.

And with a loud _pop _, which made Helena look up just in time to see him disappear into thin air, he Dissaparated and left the family he could have had, possibly forever.


	2. Chapter 1: Can't Fight This Feeling

**Lorem: Non habent Harry Potter et miris mundi. Est omnes adversissimas haud XXIII Rowling scriptor terror.**

**Chapter 1: Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore**

I can't fight this feeling any longer.  
And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow.  
What started out as friendship,  
Has grown stronger.  
I only wish I had the strength to let it show.

I tell myself that I can't hold out forever.  
I said there is no reason for my fear.  
Cause I feel so secure when we're together.  
You give my life direction,  
You make everything so clear.

And even as I wander,  
I'm keeping you in sight.  
You're a candle in the window,  
On a cold, dark winter's night.  
And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might.

And I can't fight this feeling anymore.  
I've forgotten what I started fighting for.  
It's time to bring this ship into the shore,  
And throw away the oars, forever.

**Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore, Reo Speedwagon**

11- year old, Victoria van Pelt, or more commonly known by her friends as Vicky was walking home after a long and tiring day of school, sick to the teeth of math problems, wondering why on earth she needed to learn maths when she would have no use of it later in life when she became an artist. Just as she turned around the corner to her house, she saw a huge barn owl swooping into her house through an open window. She was quite surprised and started running the rest of the way to her house.

As she walked into the living room, she saw a tall, old man with long white hair and beard and twinkling blue eyes. Vicky thought he rather looked like Father Christmas, except that he was thin, not round and cuddly like Santa Claus should be. Next to him was a tall, thin woman with wire rimmed spectacles and had a rather stern look. Vicky thought she was rather intimidating. She looked around for her mother to see if she had seen the owl in the house yet, but when she didn't see her anywhere nearby she turned back around to the strangers in the room and was surprised to see them looking back at her with equal interest. So she decided to greet them.

"Hello, I am Victoria, are you waiting for my mum?"

The old man smiled with a bright twinkle in his kind blue eyes and said, "Yes we are waiting for your mother, she went to the kitchen to get us some tea, actually."

"Oh, well then, who are you people anyway? ", she said, not caring if she was sounded rude. She was curious and as was natural with curious children decided to straight away ask the question she had wanted to ask since she had walked in to see two strangers in her living room.

"Oh Vicky, you are home! Why don't you go upstairs and wash up and come back down. There are two very special people here to meet you", said her mother from the doorway as she walked in carrying a tray laden with tea cups and a kettle.

Vicky frowned and started to protest but her mother gave her The Look, so she acquiesced and went upstairs to her room.

As soon as Vicky left the room, Helena breathed a sigh of relief and turned around to face the two other people in the room.

"Well, this is big news. But I am honestly not surprised, seeing who her father was. I supposed she will have to go, won't she?" she asked them.

"Yes, there could be a lot of accidents if she doesn't learn how to control her magic. It would also result in a breach of the International Statute of Secrecy, now that she is eleven years old and has the Trace on her", replied the old man who was called Albus Dumbledore.

"Does she know about her father?" asked the thin woman called Minerva McGonagall.

"No, she doesn't know who it is but she knows that she is adopted by my husband. She's a smart girl she figured out that Brad wasn't her biological father all by herself. I am not worried about her taking the news badly. She has always known she was different from the other children," replied Helena. "Wait I will call her down. VICKY! Come down here, I need to talk to you."

"Coming Mum!" and a blur of red and white flew down the stairs and stumbled into the living room.

Helena put her hands on her hips and asked her daughter, "Were you eavesdropping?"

"No I wasn't! Cross my heart", replied Vicky indignantly. "What did you want to talk about and am I ever going to find out who they are?" jerking her thumb in the direction of the two guests, who were looking on in amusement at the interaction between mother and daughter.

"They wanted to talk to you, honey. They are from a special school. It's an elite boarding school near Scotland." Said Helena.

"Oh, okay. So what is it?" Vicky asked Albus and Minerva.

Vicky watched the old man as he stood up, smiling that twinkling smile at her. The woman was watching her with interest she was not used to and nervously started fidgeting wondering what these two people from an elite school wanted to talk to her about.

"Ms van Pelt, have you ever wondered why you have never gotten along with other children your age? Why you are always surpassing them academically and otherwise? Has anything, let's say, different happened around you? Something weird that you couldn't explain?" asked Albus.

Vicky thought about all the things he had said. She never did get along with the other kids, because she knew she could do better than them. She wasn't being conceited, she just _knew. _Also the children had dubbed her as weird and freaky because she was different, what with her fiery scarlet curls and almost silver eyes, she had a striking appearance. She was also smarter than the average eleven year old. As for the "different" things that had happened around her, there was that time when she couldn't reach the library book because it was too high and the next second the entire top shelve had fallen on the floor in front of her. There was also that time when she was six years old and had an argument with her parents about changing the colour of her bedroom to red and gold and had gone to bed angry and sullen. When she had woken up in the morning, her entire room was decked in red and gold. At first she had thought her parents had surprised her because it was the _exact_ room she had in mind, but when she thought about it later, it couldn't have been possible for her parents to make over her room completely _while _she was asleep in the said room in one night. She thought about all this and then looked at the old man straight in the eye and nodded.

"It's because you're a witch, Ms van Pelt," said Albus with a bright smile. "You're magical."

"A…a witch? This isn't some kind of joke right? Are you serious? Oh my God, you are serious!" stuttered Vicky. She looked at her mother and was surprised to see her smiling, with an excited twinkle in her eyes. " You knew? How come you didn't tell me?"

"I only found out before you came home from school, honey," said Helena, knowing that her daughter's nervousness would soon turn into excitement and happiness.

"So what about this school you were talking about? Is it a school for people like me?" asked Vicky, her voice rising up an octave in her excitement. She could hardly believe this! She was a witch! She was magical! She looked at the old man and woman with barely controlled excitement.

"Yes, there is. It is the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am its headmaster, Professor Albus Dumbledore and this is my deputy, Professor Minerva McGonagall, the head of the Transfiguration department," replied Albus, sorry, Professor Dumbledore.

"So you're a wizard? And what is transfiguration? Will I be learning that at school? Can you show me something now?" asked Vicky excitedly, now jumping up and down in her excitement.

"Of course, "said Professor McGonagall, pulling out a polished length of wood from her pocket and waving it she said, "_geminio,_" and with that the vase of flowers on the coffee table duplicated and next to it stood an exact clone of the original one!

Vicky looked on in pure amazement and asked in a squeaky voice, "Will I be able to do that?"

"Eventually, in your first year you will only learn the most basic of spells, according to your level," said Professor McGonagall, flashing one of her rare smiles that made her look 10 years younger at the obviously excited and bright child, as she handed Victoria her Hogwarts letter.

Victoria took it from her and opened the wax seal with her nail. Inside there were two thick pieces of parchment. She opened the first one and read:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards.)

Dear Victoria van Pelt,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term starts on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st..

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress.

Vicky read this and smiled excitedly. She took out the next parchment and read the list of supplies:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Uniform

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

_The Standard Book of Spells(Grade 1)_

By Miranda Goshawk

_A History of Magic_

_by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory_

_by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_

_by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_

_by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions_

_by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_

_by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_

_by Quentin Trimble_

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS

ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK

Yours sincerely,

Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus

Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions

Vicky frowned. Where would she get all of this in London? She asked this question aloud.

Professor Dumbledore smiled and said, "Someone from the school will come and take you and your mother to a place called Diagon Alley where you will find everything you need. There will be another child coming with you as well. He is also as new to this as you are."

"Oh okay, well thank you," Vicky smiled. She was a witch!

Meanwhile, in another part of London…. (A/N: Everything from here belongs to JK Rowling and Bloomsbury publishers. Nothing belongs to me)

"Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared.

It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dudley sniveled.

"It's Monday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television."

Monday. This reminded Harry of something. If it was Monday — and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days of the week, because of television — then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Harry's eleventh birthday. Of course, his birthdays were never exactly fun — last year, the Dursleys had given him a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks. Still, you weren't eleven every day.

Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought.

"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!"

It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no television in there.

"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"

A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them.

"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!"

It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.

The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.

Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully.

He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Harry privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer him up at all.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry was left to find the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry couldn't sleep. He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, his stomach rumbling with hunger. Dudley's snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Harry he'd be eleven in ten minutes' time. He lay and watched his birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now.

Five minutes to go. Harry heard something creak outside. He hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although he might be warmer if it did. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that he'd be able to steal one somehow.

Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea?

One minute to go and he'd be eleven. Thirty seconds … twenty … ten … nine — maybe he'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him — three … two … one …

BOOM.

The whole shack shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.

BOOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake.

"Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly.

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands — now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you — I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then —

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.

A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey. …"

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here's Harry!" said the giant.

Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes."

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.

"I demand that you leave at once, sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway — Harry," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here — I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harry written on it in green icing.

Harry looked up at the giant. He meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was, "Who are you?"

The giant chuckled.

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's whole arm.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Harry felt the warmth wash over him as though he'd sunk into a hot bath.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."

The giant chuckled darkly.

"Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."

He passed the sausages to Harry, who was so hungry he had never tasted anything so wonderful, but he still couldn't take his eyes off the giant. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, he said, "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are."

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts — yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

"Er — no," said Harry.

Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry," Harry said quickly.

"Sorry?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Harry.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"

He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that this boy — this boy! — knows nothin' abou' — about ANYTHING?"

Harry thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school, after all, and his marks weren't bad.

"I know some things," he said. "I can, you know, do math and stuff."

But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world."

"What world?"

Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.

"DURSLEY!" he boomed.

Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at Harry.

"But yeh must know about yer mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

"What? My — my mom and dad weren't famous, were they?"

"Yeh don' know … yeh don' know …" Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare.

"Yeh don' know what yeh are?" he said finally.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.

"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell the boy anything!"

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.

"You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from him all these years?"

"Kept what from me?" said Harry eagerly.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.

Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Harry — yer a wizard."

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

"I'm a what?" gasped Harry.

"A wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh read yer letter."

Harry stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. He pulled out the letter and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Questions exploded inside Harry's head like fireworks and he couldn't decide which to ask first. After a few minutes he stammered, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl — a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl — a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harry could read upside down:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Given Harry his letter.

Taking him to buy his things tomorrow.

Weather's horrible. Hope you're well.

Hagrid

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.

Harry realized his mouth was open and closed it quickly.

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"He's not going," he said.

Hagrid grunted.

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him," he said.

"A what?" said Harry, interested.

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call nonmagic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of him! Wizard indeed!"

"You knew?" said Harry. "You knew I'm a — a wizard?"

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that — that school — and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was — a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as — as — abnormal — and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

Harry had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice he said, "Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowin' his own story when every kid in our world knows his name!"

"But why? What happened?" Harry asked urgently.

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious.

"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh — but someone's gotta — yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh — mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it. …"

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with — with a person called — but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows —"

"Who?"

"Well — I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?"

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went … bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was …"

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested.

"Nah — can't spell it. All right — Voldemort." Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this — this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too — some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches … terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him — an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway.

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before … probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em … maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an' — an' —"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad — knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find — anyway …

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then — an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing — he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh — took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even — but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Harry. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age — the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts — an' you was only a baby, an' you lived."

Something very painful was going on in Harry's mind. As Hagrid's story came to a close, he saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than he had ever remembered it before — and he remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

Hagrid was watching him sadly.

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot …"

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped; he had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

"Now, you listen here, boy," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured — and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion — asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types — just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end —"

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley — I'm warning you — one more word …"

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Harry, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them.

"But what happened to Vol-, sorry — I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see … he was gettin' more an' more powerful — why'd he go?

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back.

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Harry. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on — I dunno what it was, no one does — but somethin' about you stumped him, all right."

Hagrid looked at Harry with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Harry, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. A wizard? Him? How could he possibly be? He'd spent his life being clouted by Dudley, and bulied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if he was really a wizard, why hadn't they been turned into warty toads every time they'd tried to lock him in his cupboard? If he'd once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick him around like a football?

"Hagrid," he said quietly, "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a wizard."

To his surprise, Hagrid chuckled.

"Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?"

Harry looked into the fire. Now he came to think about it … every odd thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle furious with him had happened when he, Harry, had been upset or angry … chased by Dudley's gang, he had somehow found himself out of their reach … dreading going to school with that ridiculous haircut, he'd managed to make it grow back … and the very last time Dudley had hit him, hadn't he got his revenge, without even realizing he was doing it? Hadn't he set a boa constrictor on him?

Harry looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at him.

"See?" said Hagrid. "Harry Potter, not a wizard — you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts."

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.

"Haven't I told you he's not going?" he hissed. "He's going to Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish — spell books and wands and —"

"If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop him," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's son goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. His name's been down ever since he was born. He's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and he won't know himself. He'll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an' he'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbled—"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER —" he thundered, "— INSULT — ALBUS — DUMBLEDORE — IN — FRONT — OF — ME!"

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley — there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."

He cast a sideways look at Harry under his bushy eyebrows.

"Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm — er — not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff — one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job —"

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry.

"Oh, well — I was at Hogwarts meself but I — er — got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled?"

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry.

"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."

(A/N: Again I just want to say that nothing in this part except for Victoria and her family belong to me. Anything recognizable is all Queen Rowling's awesomeness )


	3. Chapter 2: I'll Be There for You

_**Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.**_

_**Chapter 2: I'll Be There for You**_

_So no one told you life was gonna be this way  
your jobs a joke, you're broke, your love life's D.O.A._

It's like you're always stuck in second gear  
And it hasn't been your day, your week, your month,  
or even your year  
but...

I'll be there for you  
When the rain starts to pour  
I'll be there for you  
Like I've been there before  
I'll be there for you  
'Cuz you're there for me too...

_**I'll Be There for You, The Rembrandts**_

Vicky woke up the next morning with an excited grin on her face. She was going to go to Diagon Alley today! She was going to get her wand today and hopefully make her first friend in the Wizarding World! She looked at her clock and almost vaulted out of bed. It was 8 o' clock! Her escort to Diagon Alley would arrive in an hour! How could she have slept so late? She was sure she wouldn't have been able to sleep a wink.

She hurried out of bed and showered and got ready for her day. When she went down to the kitchen her mum was already there making blueberry waffles for breakfast. She greeted her mum with a kiss on her cheek and asked her if she was coming to Diagon Alley with her today.

Her mum gave a wry smile and said, "No I have some work at the publishers office today, you are on your own today, honey." Her mum was a famous writer and was always busy running around with research and paperwork for her novels.

"Oh, well, okay. But it would have been so much fun!" whined Vicky.

Helena smiled and said, "You can buy yourself an early birthday present today. Didn't your Hogwarts letter say you were allowed to have a cat, and owl or a toad? Why don't you buy yourself an animal as a birthday present?"

Vicky, if possible became even more excited than before. Then she remembered that Dumbledore had said that there was a different type of currency in the Wizarding World, so how was she going to buy all those things anyway? She asked this aloud. Helena explained that she could exchange the Muggle money for Wizarding money at the Wizarding bank Gringotts that Dumbledore had told her about.

"Now hurry up and get ready, they will be here any minute."

But Vicky was already halfway up the stairs. Helena smiled and shook her head. Her daughter had inherited her father's hyperactivity and was always easily excited. She wondered if he would ever come back. Now that Vicky was going to be a part of the Wizarding world there was a possibility that she might meet him. She wondered how her daughter would react. Helena knew the reasons for him leaving but she wondered if her daughter would understand. Vicky was a very hot tempered girl. It was possible she wouldn't listen if she ever met him. She was a lot like him in so many ways. She had only inherited Helena's looks but had his eyes. The same beautiful grey-silver eyes she had fallen in love with. Nevertheless Helena was proud of her daughter and she knew she would grow up to be a very powerful witch despite being halfblood. She knew this because Vicky's magical powers had started showing at a very young age and it always acted in an immense and dramatic manner. He had told her that this was a sign of powerful magical ability. She knew her daughter would have difficulty making new friends in the Wizarding world as she was new to it. Only Helena knew her daughter was a halfblood witch. Everyone else would think she was muggleborn and she would have to face some prejudices. But Vicky was a strong and wilful girl. She wouldn't take any kind of nonsense from anyone.

The doorbell and rang and she heard Vicky thundering down the stairs to open the door. Helena shook herself out of her reverie and went to greet the newcomers.

Vicky heard the doorbell ring and ran down the stairs to open the door. It was them! They were here!

She opened the door and nearly gasped in shock. She suppressed it just in time so as not to sound rude. In front of was a man twice as tall as the average man and nearly five times as wide. He had a long shaggy mane of hair and a beard that covered most of his face. His hands were as big as dustbin lids and his feet in their boots were like baby dolphins. He had light skin and dark eyes that glinted like black beetles.

He smiled at her and offered her his hand. Once she got over the initial shock at his size, Vicky saw that he was overall a nice guy and decided he wouldn't hurt her. She smiled back and took his hand. Her hands were like ants compared to his!

"Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Gamekeeper of Hogwarts, yeh must be Victoria van Pelt. Firs time, eh? Must be quite excited. I am 'ere ter take ye to Diagon Alley. Oh and this is Harry Potter. 'E is new ter the Wizardin' world, just like yeh." (A/N: I can't do Hagrid's accent properly…sorry )

As he moved aside and Vicky saw that there was a scrawny boy around her age with striking green eyes and messy black hair that stuck out in all directions, he also had a funny looking scar on his forehead, just over his Scotch taped glasses – it was in the shape of a lightning scar. He wore clothes that looked like they belonged to a person at least five sizes bigger than him, making him look even smaller than he actually was. Vicky smiled shyly at him and offered him her hand. He took it and introduced himself as Harry Potter.

Harry woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight. "It was a dream," he told himself firmly. "I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards. When I open my eyes I'll be at home in my cupboard. "There was suddenly a loud tapping noise. And there's Aunt Petunia knocking on the door, Harry thought, his heart sinking. But he still didn't open his eyes. It had been such a good dream. Tap. Tap. Tap.

"All right, " Harry mumbled, "I'm getting up." He sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off him. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak. Harry scrambled to his feet, so happy he felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside him.

Hagrid took the newspaper from its beak and asked Harry to pass the owl a few sickles.

"Sickles?" asked Harry curiously.

"Silver coins. Wizardin' money. They are in the coat." Replied Hagrid.

Harry went to the the coat lying on the floor and rummaged through the pockets. He found a number of things like mouldy dog biscuits, peppermint humbugs, a squashy package of sausages, a copper kettle, a fire poker, a dirty spotted handkerchief and finally a pouch full of gold, silver and bronze coins. Hagrid asked for two silver coins. Harry took them out and gave them to Hagrid. Hagrid paid the owl and took the newspaper. He folded it up and said, "Well, we best be off. We have ter pick up someone else who is just as new to the Wizardin' world as yeh. No point wakin' up the Muggles, eh?"

"Alright, let's go." Harry smiled excitedly at Hagrid. The giant man smiled back kindly at him.

He took out a handwritten note from his coat pocket. It had an address written on it. Harry realized with a start that the address was quite close to Privet Drive.

"Alrigh', this is the address of the girl we are escorting ter Diagon Alley," said Hagrid as they got into a little boat.

Harry, meanwhile, was worrying about the boat being able to take Hagrid's weight.

As they reached the house that was named on the little note, Harry saw a big house about twice the size of Number 4, but at the same time, even from outside it looked homely and welcoming. As they approached the wicker gate, Harry saw a purple girl's bike propped against the fence.

Hagrid pressed a giant finger against the doorbell. As they were waiting Harry heard a pair of legs racing down a staircase, probably. The door opened and they were greeted by a pretty girl his age with wild scarlet curls and silver-grey eyes that made for a striking appearance along with her scarlet curls.

Hagrid introduced himself to her and then introduced Harry. She looked at Harry with friendly, laughing eyes and a shy smile as she offered him her hand and said, "Hi! I am Victoria, but most people call me Vicky, I prefer being called that myself. Are you a wizard? Isn't this exciting? I was so happy to find out I was a witch. I had always wondered why strange things always happened around me…." She trailed off as she realized she was babbling.

She gave Harry a sheepish grin. Harry found himself grinning back at her. It looked like he had made himself a friend.

She looked behind her as an older woman with identical hair came into view. "It must be her mother," Harry thought to himself, "why does she look so familiar?" Harry realized that he had seen this woman on the cover of the popular romance novels that Aunt Petunia read.

If she was shocked at Hagrid's unnatural size, she hid it well. She smiled at them and said, "I am Helena van Pelt, Vicky's mother. Unfortunately I wouldn't be able to come with you to get Vicky's things with you all, but I hope you have fun. And Vic, here's your money. Get all your things. Oh and here's the money for your birthday present. Be careful."

The last part was directed at Vicky. She kissed her daughter on the cheek and sent them off with a wave.

As they left the house, Harry turned to Vicky and asked her if it was her birthday today as well.

Vicky laughed and said, "No, birthdays in August, actually. I am buying myself an early birthday present." She turned and looked at Harry curiously. "You asked me if it was my birthday today as well. Is it _your_ birthday today?"

Harry nodded shyly. He looked at Vicky, who smiled and said "Happy Birthday! Is it your eleventh birthday then? I turned eleven last year."

Now it was Harry's turn to look at her curiously. "If you are already eleven, then how come you are starting Hogwarts now? I thought you got your letter when you turn eleven."

Before Vicky could reply, Hagrid answered for her. "Everybody gets their Hogwarts letter at the end of July, after or when they are already eleven. If you turn eleven after the 15th of August, you get your letter the next year. So yer birthday's after the 15th, eh?"

"Yes, it's on the 28th. That means I will be eleven months older than everyone else in my year?" Vicky asked worriedly. Harry realized she was worrying about being almost a year older than the other students in their year.

"Yeah, but it's normal. There are many students who are older than most people in their year."

"Oh, okay. So where's Diagon Alley?" she asked Hagrid, curiously. Harry turned to look at Hagrid as well.

"It's near Charing Cross Road." Replied Hagrid.

As they walked, they attracted a lot of stares from passers-by, obviously taken aback by Hagrid's size. All the while, Harry and Vicky chatted animatedly with Hagrid and with each other. The two, it turned out had a lot in common, although Harry did not have the same T.V. and computer privileges as Vicky, and with the little time he got. The two were very curious about the Wizarding world and pelted Hagrid with questions. Both being new to the wizarding world, would wonder aloud about how different things were when you were magical. The way the two chatted with each other, both being new to the wizarding world, would wonder aloud about how different things were when you were magical. The way the two chatted with each other, you would think they had been the best of friends for years, when they had only known each other for less than two hours.

"Ah, here it is, The Leaky Cauldron, it's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he, Vicky and Hagrid could see it. Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered him inside. For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut.

The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Vicky looked around. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business, " said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry's shoulder and making poor Harry's knees buckle and pointing at Victoria. But nobody was paying attention to her; the entire pub was staring at Harry with wonder.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "is this - can this be -?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent. "Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter... What an honor. "

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes. "Welcome back, Mr Potter, welcome back." Poor Harry had gone speechless. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming. Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron, with Vicky watching with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching. "Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Vicky, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter, "stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" asked Vicky.

"D-Defense against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself."

He looked terrified at the very thought. But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble. "Must get on - lots ter buy. Come on, kids."

Hagrid led through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds. Hagrid grinned at Harry. "Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh – mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he usually that nervous?" Vicky asked Hagrid.

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience...They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag - never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject now, where's me umbrella?"

Hags? Vampires? Vicky's head was swimming and judging by Harry's expression, he was feeling the same.

Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can. "Three up... Two across he muttered. "Right, stand back, kids."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella. The brick he had touched quivered - it wriggled - in the middle, a small hole appeared - it grew wider and wider - a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. "Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley." He grinned at their amazement.

They stepped through the archway. Harry and Vicky looked quickly over their shoulders and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall. The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons - All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver - Self-Stirring - Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one, "said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."

Vicky and Harry turned their heads in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad..."

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium - Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about her age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," she heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand - fastest ever - -"

There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon...

"Gringotts," said Hagrid. They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was -"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

"Like I said, yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid. A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid, Harry and Vicky made for the counter.

"Morning, "said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe and change Ms Victoria van Pelt's money to Wizarding money."

"You have his key, Sir?" asked the goblin, looking at Harry curiously.

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Vicky watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key. The goblin looked at it closely. "That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore, "said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen. "

The goblin read the letter carefully. "Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Harry followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked.

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

Griphook held the door open for them. Vicky, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in - Hagrid with some difficulty - and were off. At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering. Vicky's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. Once, she thought she saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, she saw Harry doing the same, but too late – they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

"I never know, "Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."

He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling. Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. So did Vicky. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid at Harry. All Harry's - it was incredible.

The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from him faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Harry cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to him, buried deep under London. Hagrid helped Harry pile some of it into a bag.

"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, its easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh. "He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck. Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away. "If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry asked.

"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Harry was sure, and he leaned forward eagerly, Vicky doing the same, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least - but at first he thought it was empty. Then he noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Harry longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, its best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid. One wild cart ride later they stood in the great lobby.

Hagrid took Vicky to one of the goblins on the high desks and said, "Ms van Pelt is here to exchange the Muggle money for Wizarding money. About 500 Galleons in an assortment should do it." As he handed the pound notes to the goblin he said to Vicky, "yeh can keep the remaining money to last you through the year."

Vicky took the heavy pouch from the goblin, smiling and nodded to Hagrid. She had been quiet through the entire experience at Gringotts, which was a first for her. She was a chatterbox and it took a lot to render her speechless. She herself was disconcerted by her sudden silence.

Vicky didn't know where to run first now that she had a bag full of money.

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, kids, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts."

He did still look a bit sick, so Harry and Vicky entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous. Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, clear?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here - another young man being fitted up just now, in fact"

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello, "said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow. Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," said Harry.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be

. "I do - Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Harry and Vicky in unison, feeling more stupid by the minute.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," said Harry, looking as if he wanted to the floor to swallow him up.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window.

Hagrid was standing there, grinning at them and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," said Vicky pleased to know something the boy didn't.

"He works at Hogwarts." Harry added in.

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," said Vicky. She was liking the boy less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage - lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," said Harry coldly.

"Do you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like going into the matter with this boy. "Oh, sorry, " said the other. Not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean." Harry snapped.

""I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same; they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

Vicky realized Harry was going to lose his temper if the snotty boy didn't shut up, so she hurried him up and got her robes fitted and paid for them before the pale boy could say anything else to make Harry angry. Vicky couldn't blame him either; she had wanted to slap him when he started insulting Hagrid and Muggle families. She was a Muggleborn as well.

Harry was rather quiet as he ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought them (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts).

"What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Nothing," Harry lied. Vicky knew he was lying, she also knew something was going on with Harry.

They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote.

When they had left the shop, he said, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know - not knowin' about Quidditch!"

"Don't make me feel worse," said Harry. He and Vicky told Hagrid about the pate boy in Madam Malkin's.

"-and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in," Vicky finished, suddenly feeling quite hurt herself. Did everybody in the Wizarding world feel that way?

"Yer not from a Muggle family, Harry. If he'd known who yeh were - he's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, Vicky, don't take his words to heart, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em along Muggle lines."

"So what is Quidditch?"

"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like - like soccer in the Muggle world - everyone follows Quidditch -played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls - sorta hard ter explain the rules."

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School houses." There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but - -"

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff" said Harry gloomily.

"Me too. "put in Vicky.

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one. "

"Vol-, sorry - You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"

"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.

"Wait, who or what is You-Know-Who?" asked Vicky.

"He was a Dark wizard. He killed my parents and disappeared when he tried to kill me as a baby." Said Harry, sadly.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry. So that explains why you are so famous, I was wondering about that."

They bought their school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Hagrid almost had to drag them away from Curses and Counter curses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

"Harry, your name is in this book! Look! 'Harry Potter, son of James and Lily Potter who were killed by notorious Dark wizard, whose name shall not be mentioned in this book, is the only person ever to survive the Killing Curse, that too, as a baby.' Wow!" Exclaimed Vicky as she closed the book, Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts.

"Alrigh' come on yeh two; we have lots ter buy and very little time." Said Hagrid as he ushered them out of the bookshop.

They brought their potions equipment (cauldron, weighing scales) as well as a collapsible brass telescope.

Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Harry, Harry himself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry's list again. "Just yer wand left - A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

Harry felt himself go red. "You don't have to - -"

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at - an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances, "said Hagrid. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level. "Hagrid wouldn't let Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says pewter on yer list"), but they got anise set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Harry, Harry himself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop). 46Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry's list again. "Just yer wand left - A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present." Harry felt himself go red. "You don't have to - -"

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, you'd be laughed at - an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everything'. Vicky we will get yer birthday present there also if yeh like."

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. He couldn't stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell. Vicky now carried a beautiful black kitten with glittering green eyes who she named Persephone. She absolutely adored the little kitten from the moment she saw her, it appeared that the kitten felt the same about Vicky as well as she hadn't stopped purring since Vicky had picked her up. "That's the first time she's done that, she's a very fussy kitten," the shop lady had said.

"Just Ollivanders left now - only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand," said Hagrid.

A magic wand... This was what Vicky had been really looking forward to. The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B. C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait.

Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair. An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Harry awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter. "It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy. "Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it - it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course." Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes. "And that's where... "Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands...well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, spotted Hagrid. "Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er - yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

"Oh, no, sir, " said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now - Mr. Potter. Let me see. "He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er - well, I'm right-handed," said Harry.

"Hold out your arm. That's it. "He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try - -"Harry tried - but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no -here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere - I wonder, now -yes, why not - unusual combination - holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand. He felt sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid and Vicky whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... How curious... How very curious..."

He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... Curious..."

"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave you that scar." Harry swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter...After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible, yes, but great."

Harry shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand. It was now Vicky's turn. Harry noticed she looked a little creeped out by Mr. Ollivander as well as she walked upto the wizard.

Vicky's arm was starting to hurt now. She had tried out even more wands than Harry and he had tried out a _lot._ Poor Mr. Ollivander was running around bringing her boxes and boxes of wands to try out. Now he was handing her a long and crooked wand.

She gave it a wave and suddenly purple and gold sparks shot out of its end and her hair was being ruffled by air and she could smell the musty smell of wet earth and hear the calming sound of running water, she felt as though she was walking through fire but it didn't hurt. She felt happy and calm. She could vaguely hear Harry and Hagrid cheering, but she didn't pay much attention to them.

Then Mr. Ollivander was taking the wand from saying, "12 ½ inches, English Oak, dragon heartstring, surprisingly swishy. A powerful wand, but only if the owner has elemental affinity. Seems like you are going to be a very powerful witch, Ms van Pelt."

"Elemental affinity, sir?" Asked Vicky. "What's that?"

"The ability to invoke a particular element- fire, earth, air, water or spirit- or in special and _very _special cases, all five. Which element did you feel when you tested the wand?" asked Mr. Ollivander.

"Uh, I think I felt all, what does it mean?" replied Vicky.

Mr. Ollivander gave her a curious stare, much like when Harry got his wand. He was starting to creep her out now. "It means you are destined for great things, Ms van Pelt, just like Mr Potter.


	4. Chapter 3: Hogwarts, Hogwarts

_**Disclaimer:**__**"Roh tua suoma fai maro ne sih cnarf sih tfo sret carah conn woi. Sae dinwo ymtu bgnih tonn woi."**_

_**Author's note: *hides behind trees and ducks as her very limited number of fans throw stones at her and some try to crucio her* OMG, guys I feel like such a PRAT! But before you start jeering me further, I have a very good explaination. I had to go out of town for two weeks and my mom plain out refused to let me take the laptop. Hell, this chapter's been completed for 3 weeks now, but I didn't get a single darn chance to upload uptil now. The last week had been hectic because I had missed two weeks of school and had a lot to catch up. But I promise my updates will be MUCH sooner from now on and I solemnly swear I will tell you whenever I know for sure I won't able to update. le makes Harry Potter promise*.**_

_**Oh, and a BIG shoutout to all those who have favourited my story added it to their alerts: **__**punkymarz18, EvaReads, L0nelyHeartsClub, STALLION OF THE CIMARRON, Chicagoman58312, dragomirs. Thank you guys soo much! Now on with the story!**_

Chapter 3: Hogwarts, Hogwarts

_Hogwarts__,__Hogwarts__, Hoggy Warty__Hogwarts__,__  
Teach us something, please,__  
Whether we be old and bald__  
Or young with scabby knees,__  
Our heads could do with filling__  
With some interesting stuff,__  
For now they're bare and full of air,__  
Dead flies and bits of fluff,__  
So teach us things worth knowing,__  
Bring back what we've forgot,__  
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,__  
And learn until our brains all rot._

_**Hogwarts School Song**_

The month of August passed by in a blur. It was soon the 28th of August, Vicky's twelfth birthday. Her parents celebrated it with a small cake and her father got her a new trunk for Hogwarts.

Soon enough it was September 1st and Vicky was going to be leaving for Hogwarts today. She got out of bed early because she was so excited she had hardly slept a wink the previous night.

There was general running around looking for her things, rechecking her Hogwarts supplies list and getting ready. Finally they left for King's Cross Station, with Vicky chattering excitedly about the various things she had read about Hogwarts and the wizarding world.

When they got to the station, Vicky checked the train ticket she had got with her Hogwarts letter. It read:

_For one way travel_

_London to Hogwarts _

Platform 9 ¾

"The train leaves from Platform 9 ¾ at 11 o' clock. Where's Platform 9 ¾?" Vicky asked her parents.

"Platform 9 ¾? Vicky there's no 9 ¾ at King's Cross." Her father replied smiling at her in the rear-view mirror.

"Well it says so on the ticket. Look."

"We'll figure it out when we get there, yeah?" her mum suggested.

"Okay, I am sure there are other magical people there, we can ask them," Vicky said as they were walking to Platform nine. When they got there they saw an intimidating old lady wearing a vulture hat that was attracting quite a lot of stares from passers-by, walking with a chubby boy pushing a trolley. Vicky guessed she had to be a witch because no Muggle would wear those clothes; her robes rather looked like Vicky's Hogwarts robes. Just then she saw another girl her age with bushy brown hair and caramel eyes, pushing a trolley with her parents walking behind her. Vicky recognized them, they were her dentists! She watched the bushy haired girl walk up to the lady with the vulture hat. She could clearly hear what they were saying. The girl had asked her about Platform 9 ¾! Vicky quickly started pushing her trolley towards them.

She caught up with them panting, "Excuse me, do you know how to get to Platform 9 ¾?"

"Yes, love, you just push your trolley through the column between Platform 9 and 10. You must be first-years. My grandson Neville is starting this year as well," she said pushing the chubby boy forward, who smiled at them shyly.

"Oh, hello, I am Victoria and those are my parents," she said waving to her parents, who were currently staring at the above mentioned column with curiosity.

"And I am Hermione Granger," the bushy haired girl said, smiling at Vicky and Neville.

"I know your parents are my dentists," Vicky said smiling back. "Oh and you can call me Vicky by the way."

"Why don't I and Neville go through the barrier first then, you," pointing at Hermione, "then you can go," pointing at Vicky.

"Alright."

Vicky watched anxiously as the old lady and Neville ran fast, she was half scared they would crash but then they disappeared right through the pillar! Vicky looked around to see if anyone else had seen them disappear. She watched as Hermione and her parents did the same and disappeared through the barrier as well.

Now it was Vicky and her parents turn to go through the barrier. She went in first with the trolley, with her parents following behind.

When she got through the barrier she looked around in wonder and amazement. Students and parents were running around greeting each other happily and exchanging stories of their various summers. But the most amazing sight of all was the Hogwarts Express.

It was a scarlet train, the colour not very different from Vicky's hair, with white steam billowing out of the chimney like puffs of cotton candy. There were different compartments. Vicky checked her watch and realized the train would be leaving in 10 minutes. She looked around and spotted Hermione and Neville bidding goodbye to their respective families. She wondered if Harry was here yet. She hoped he would reach quickly.

She turned to her parents, hugged them goodbye and promised to write them whenever she could and walked up to Hermione and Neville and asked them if they wanted to get a compartment together. They replied yes, so the three of them walked into the train together looking for an empty compartment. They found one not far from the engine and put all their things in the rack. Vicky let Persephone out of her travel bag, who promptly curled up in Vicky's lap.

She noticed Neville looking very hassled. He seemed to be looking for something.

"What's up, Neville? Lost something?" Vicky asked him.

"My toad Trevor is missing!"

Hermione walked through the train checking the compartments for Trevor. Where had the darned toad gotten to? They had hardly been inside the train for five minutes when Neville lost him. She hoped Trevor wasn't lost somewhere on the platform. That would have been a serious problem. Poor Neville was so worried. She, Vicky and Neville were presently roaming the train looking for the missing toad.

She opened another compartment and asked the occupants if they had seen a toad, a boy called Neville had lost him.

"We have already told him we haven't seen him."

Hermione looked at the rude red-haired boy. He was holding a fat rat and a battered looking wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then." She sat down.

The red head looked taken aback. "Er- alright, then." He cleared his throat.

"Sunshine daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow."

But nothing happened, the "stupid fat rat" stayed grey.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said Hermione. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough -I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She said all this very fast.

"I am Ron Weasley, "the red haired boy muttered.

"Harry Potter," said the other boy.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course - I got a few extra books. For background reading and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. "

"Am I?" said Harry, looking dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me, "said Hermione. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad... Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon. "

She left. She heard Ron Weasley say, "Whatever house I am in, I hope she isn't in it."

She felt hurt. Oh, well at least she had made a friend in Vicky and Neville.

She wasn't sure she liked the red haired boy, Ron Weasley very much. He was rather rude. She felt bad for Harry. He seemed like a nice boy, even after everything he had been through.

Vicky opened a compartment door and looked in. She asked the occupants if they had seen a toad, they shook their heads, no. She opened the next compartment and saw…..

"Harry! Oh, I was worried you hadn't made it! Did your family treat you all right in the last month? Anyway have either of you seen a toad?" she asked them, running up to Harry and hugging him.

"My God, no we haven't seen a toad, why is everyone so obsessed with this toad? And how do you know Harry anyway?" a gangly red haired boy with freckles, around Vicky's age asked irritably.

"No need to get snippy with me, Neville's in a right state, I was only just helping him. And as for how I know Harry, we went to Diagon Alley together. We are both from Muggle families, you see, so Hagrid took us to Diagon Alley," replied Vicky, rather peeved at this boy's rudeness. "I am Victoria and you are?"

"Ron Weasley," said Ron, with his mouth full of candy.

"Alright, then. Anyway Harry, I'll see you later. Oh and you should probably change into your robes, we will be at Hogwarts soon. I have to go help look for Neville's toad. Bye, Harry, Weasley."

When the train stopped at Hogsmeade; Vicky, Neville and Hermione got off together. The Hogsmeade station was just as chaotic as 9 3/4. Students running about greeting each other, exchanging stories…..

"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here! Alright there, Harry?" Vicky heard Hagrid's voice shouting through the din on the platform. She took Neville and Hermione by the arms and followed the sound of Hagrid's voice through the platform.

"Harry!" called Vicky, waving as she spotted him standing with Ron near Hagrid.

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Vicky thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville sniffed once or twice.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Ron were followed into their boat by Neville and Hermione who got into another boat with Vicky. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat all to himself, "right then, FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald green robes stood there. Vicky recognized her as Professor McGonagall.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was _huge_. The stone walls were lit  
with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Vicky could hear the drone of several hundred voices coming from behind the doors on the right side -the rest of the school must already be here - but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room."

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the  
rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as  
you can while you are waiting."

Her gaze lingered for a while on Neville's cloak which was fastened under his left year and Ron's smudged nose. Vicky nervously checked her uniform and robes. She looked around and saw the other children doing the same. She caught the gaze of the pale boy with the pointed face from Madam Malkin's; he promptly turned up his nose and looked away.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait here quietly."

She left the chamber. Vicky swallowed.

She tried to pay attention to Hermione, who was talking about the spells she had learned over the summer, putting in her two cents as well. The two girls had become fast friends during their ride to Hogwarts. They had a lot in common and each respected and appreciated the other for her intelligence. She hoped they would be sorted into the same house. Harry as well.

Then something happened that made her jump about a foot in the air- several people screamed.

"What the-?"

She gasped. So did a lot of other people. About twenty pearly white ghosts had floated in through the back wall. They glided across the room talking to each other and hardly noticing the nervous first years. They seemed to be arguing.

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along, now," said a sharp voice.

Professor McGonagall had returned.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly as though her knees would give way any second, Vicky got into line behind Harry and Hermione, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Vicky had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Vicky looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.

Vicky quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth - and the hat began to sing:

_"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
your top hats sleek and tall,  
for I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
and I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
so try me on and I will tell you  
where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindor's apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
for I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah."

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause—

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table.

And so on, each child's name was called in alphabetical order. Hermione Granger was sorted into Gryffindor much to her delight, so was Neville Longbottom, much to his and Draco Malfoy's surprise, who had been taunting the boy about his toad and clumsiness earlier.

Draco Malfoy had become a Slytherin. The hat had barely touched the top of his before shouting – "SLYTHERIN!"

Soon Harry's name was called. Vicky watched nervously as her friend sat on the stool and put on the hat. The hat seemed to be having a conversation with Harry. Vicky noticed everyone was staring at Harry after hearing his name. She had heard about the story of course, on the first day in Diagon Alley with Harry. But the way he was treated in the wizarding world unnerved her, and she knew Harry felt the same too. He had sent her a few letters with Hedwig over the summer. He was scared that he wouldn't live up to the expectations people had about the great Harry Potter.

She watched along with the rest of the Great Hall, as the hat muttered to itself and Harry for the _longest_ of times. Finally it took a deep breath and shouted –

"GRYFFINDOR!"

There was a deafening shout from the Gryffindor table. Obviously everyone was happy that _Harry Potter _was in their house.

Now Vicky was starting to get really nervous. All of the friends she had made since discovering she was a witch were in Gryffindor. She longed to be put in the same house as Hermione, Harry and Neville.

It seemed like hours before her name was called. As the list started getting closer to the V's Vicky was starting to get more jittery. Finally she heard McGonagall call, "van Pelt, Victoria."

Vicky walked with shaky legs towards the stool and sat upon it. McGonagall placed the hat upon her head.

"Hmm, brave and strong-willed. Reckless even, would do well in Gryffindor. You could be a Hufflepuff though, loyal to a fault. Sneaky enough for a Slytherin. You have a seemingly endless mind, maybe Ravenclaw. But wait, maybe we should let it be – GRYFFINDOR!"

Vicky's smile was bright enough to light up the entire Great Hall, she saw her friends cheering the loudest among the other Gryffindors.

Suddenly all her nervousness went away and decided that may be this would be as brilliant as she imagined it to be after all, that is, if Ron and Hermione stopped bickering…..again.

_**Author's note: PLEASE, PLEASE review! Reviews make my day and it also motivates me to update faster and write longer chapters. This is my first fanfic and I would REALLY love to know what you think of my story.**_

_**Flames will be ignored.**_

_**Thank You!**_


	5. Chapter 4: Chasing the Sun

_**Disclaimer: This isn't my property but my creativity. **_

**Author's Note: Hey, guys! I updated this as early as I could….is a week's time enough for you guys to wait? Lol.**

_**I would like to thank everyone who has favourited this fanfic and reviewed! You guys are AWESOME!**_

_**Marie Antonia, xXallegedangelXx, chocolateKATE….did I miss anybody? **_

_**In reply to the reviews: Thanks! I really appreciate that, and yes I will try to update as early as I can. I just don't get much time during the week and can only use the lappy on weekends…so will do my best! :D **_

_**Chapter 4: Chasing the Sun**_

I'm better  
So much better now  
I see the light, touch the light,  
We're together now

I'm better  
So much better now  
Look to the skies, give me life  
We're together now

_We've only just begun  
Hypnotized by drums  
Until forever comes  
You'll find us chasing the sun_

_They said this day wouldn't come  
We refused to run  
We've only just begun_

_You'll find us chasing the sun_

_**Chasing the Sun, The Wanted.**_

Vicky squeezed herself between Harry and Hermione at the Gryffindor table, the next morning at breakfast. Ron was sitting on Harry's other side sulking for some reason. Vicky looked around the Great Hall; once again she was astounded by its beauty.

Vicky looked between her classmates. Harry for some reason looked rather annoyed, whereas Hermione looked exactly like an eager chipmunk. As though she had read Vicky's mind, she turned to Vicky and started gushing about the classes. Vicky listened to her excited chatter with an equally excited grin on her face. Today was her first day of classes. She was going to learn magic! All summer she had been wondering whether it was real; and now she was finally here, she could hardly wait to start.

Vicky and Hermione's roommates Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil walked into the Great Hall and plonked themselves into the seats opposite Hermione. Vicky smiled at them in greeting. The girls were soon chatting excitedly about classes and the castle over breakfast. Vicky was so happy she felt she would burst. Nothing could go wrong now.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed  
to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Vicky was sure the coats of armour could walk. The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would  
drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Harry and Ron managed to get on the wrong side of him on their very first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs Norris, a scrawny, dust-coloured creature with bulging, lamp like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of  
line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs Norris a good kick.

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Vicky quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.  
They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emetic the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight. **(Don't own the above paragraphs. From Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Couldn't find a proper introduction for the castle's craziness.)**

Professor McGonagall was again different. Vicky had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class. "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."  
Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time.

After this, they were each given a match and asked to transform it into a needle. Vicky tried and tried and in the end only managed to turn it silver. By the end of the class, Hermione was the only one who managed to get it right. Professor McGonagall showed everyone how it had all gone silver and pointy, and gave Hermione one of her rare smiles and Vicky a pat on the back for still accomplishing more than the rest of the class.

The class everyone was really looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts; but Quirell's classes turned out to be complete joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was for warding off a vampire he had met in Romania. According to Quirell, his turban had been given to him by an African prince, as a thank you for warding off a zombie, but Vicky was quite sure no one believed that story.

For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Vicky, Harry and Hermione were relieved to find out they weren't leagues behind the others after all. Lots of first-years had been brought up as Muggles and didn't know they were witches or wizards. There was actually so much to learn that even the ones who had been brought up with magic had trouble keeping up.

On Friday morning, Vicky and Hermione managed to find their way to the Great Hall without getting lost even once. They sat down opposite Harry and Ron.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked Ron as he poured sugar on his porridge.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favours them - we'll be able to see if it's true."

"Wish McGonagall favoured us," said Harry. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.

Just then, the mail arrived. Vicky had been using Hedwig to send her mother letters on Tuesday and Thursday. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped notes onto Harry's and Vicky's plate. They tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy  
scrawl:

Dear Vicky,

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have  
a cup of tea with me around three?  
I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with  
Hedwig.

Hagrid

Vicky looked up and grinned at Harry, as he took Ron's quill and sent a hurried note back to Hagrid saying that they will be there, and sent Hedwig off again.

It was a good thing Vicky and Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be a disaster.

At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harry - he hated him.  
Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had  
class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything." He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming,

eh, Potter?"

Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. He had looked through his books at the Dursleys', but did Snape expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs  
and Fungi? Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus's eye, and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased.

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was  
standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville. "You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another  
point you've lost for Gryffindor."

This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked  
him behind their cauldron.

"Don't push it," he muttered, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry's mind was racing and his spirits were low. He'd lost two points for Gryffindor in his very first week - why did Snape hate him so much?

"Cheer up," said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?"  
At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door. Harry saw Vicky and Hermione walking across the grounds towards them, and waved, while Ron scowled at Hermione.

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang - back."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous  
black boarhound. There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded  
straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was  
clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

There was a knock on the door. Hagrid opened and Vicky's beaming face appeared in the doorway.

"Hey! This is Hermione, by the way", Vicky told Hagrid as he rummaged around in his cupboards. Hermione smiled at him shyly.

"Hullo, make yerself at home. Anyone wan' a rock cake?"

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but the four children pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first -lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.

Harry and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Fitch "that old git."

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fangsometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her - Fitch puts her up to it."

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seemed to really hate me."

"Yeah, he was really mean to Harry in Potions this morning, unfair too", Vicky chimed in.

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"

Yet Harry couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that.

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot -great with animals." Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Harry picked up apiece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST  
Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

Vicky, who was reading over Hagrid's shoulder exclaimed "Hagrid! That Gringotts break-in happened on Harry's birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes this time. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As Harry, Ron, Vicky and Hermione walked back to dinner, their pockets were weighed down by the rock cakes they had been too polite to refuse, Harry thought that none of the lessons he had had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. He looked over his shoulder at Vicky and Hermione, who were walking behind him. Vicky was talking animatedly with Hermione and by their expressions Harry knew Vicky was telling Hermione the very same thing he had been thinking.Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn't want to tell Harry?

On Thursday, as she was looking at her time-table, Vicky realized that she had flying lessons with the Slytherins….

"Typical," said Harry darkly, as he plopped himself between Vicky and Ron. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."

Vicky gave Harry a sympathetic smile. She knew he had been looking forward to flying lessons more than anything else. "You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Vicky reasonably.

"Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk", added Ron.

Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus  
Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Vicky felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.

Even Hermione was just as nervous about flying as Neville. This was something you couldn't by heart out of a book, not that the poor girl wasn't trying. That morning at breakfast she had bored them all by reading out loudly from Quidditch through the Ages. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things – this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red - oh..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed the same colour as Vicky's wild curls, scarlet.

"You've forgotten something..."  
Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy. Vicky worriedly tugged on Harry's robe, she didn't want him to get into trouble.

"You mustn't fight him Harry! He's just trying to get a rise out of you!" she furiously whispered to him, but it fell on deaf ears.

Thankfully Professor McGonagall who could spot trouble quicker than any other teacher in the school was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall , Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

At three-thirty that afternoon; Vicky, Harry and the other Gryffindor first-years, hurried down the front steps to the ground for their first ever flying lessons. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn  
on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already, so were twenty broomsticks. Vicky had heard Fred and George Weasley  
complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Vicky glanced down at her broomstick. It was old and rickety looking and its twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick your right hand out over broom", instructed Madam Hooch, "and say UP!"

There were several shouts of "UP!" and Harry's broom jumped right into his hand. Ron's broom hit him in the face. Vicky's broom came into her hand as well, while Hermione's broom simply rolled over on the ground. Neville's didn't even move.

Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Vicky; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle – three - two -"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips. "Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - twelve feet - twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and -  
WHAM - a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."  
Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

Vicky had a bad feeling about this, and with good reason too.

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find - how about - up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Harry grabbed his broom.

Oh God, Vicky thought, she closed her eyes momentarily and opened them. This is going to be bad. This is going to be bad.

"DON'T DO IT, HARRY!"

"No!" shouted Hermione. "Madam Hooch told us not to move - you'll get us all into trouble!"

Harry ignored her. Blood was pounding in his ears. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him -and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he'd found something he could do without being  
taught - this was easy, this was wonderful. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron.  
He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned.

"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.

Harry knew, somehow, what to do. He leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

Harry saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down - next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball - wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching - he stretched out his hand - a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.

"HARRY POTTER!"

His heart sank faster than he'd just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward them. He got to his feet, trembling.

"Never - in all my time at Hogwarts -"

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "- how dare you - might have broken your neck -"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor -"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil

"But Malfoy -"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."

Harry caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces and Vicky's worried face as he  
left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode toward the castle. He was going to be expelled, he just knew it. He wanted to say something to defend himself, but there seemed to be something wrong with his voice. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at him; he had to jog to keep up. Now he'd done it. He hadn't even lasted two weeks. He'd be packing his bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys say when he turned up on the doorstep?

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor McGonagall didn't say a word to him. She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Harry trotting miserably behind her. Maybe she was taking him to Dumbledore. He thought of Hagrid, expelled but allowed to stay on as gamekeeper. Perhaps he could be Hagrid's assistant. His stomach twisted as he imagined it, watching Ron, Vicky and the others becoming wizards, while he stumped around the grounds carrying Hagrid's bag.

Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

Wood? thought Harry, bewildered; was Wood a cane she was going to use on him? But Wood turned out to be a person, a burly fifth-year boy who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused.

"Follow me, you two," said Professor McGonagall, and they marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Harry.

"In here."

Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard.

"Out, Peeves!" she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two boys.

"Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood - I've found you a Seeker."

Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight.

"Are you serious, Professor?"  
"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The boy's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"

Harry nodded silently. He didn't have a clue what was going on, but he didn't seem to be being expelled, and some of the feeling started coming back to his legs.

"He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive," Professor McGonagall told Wood. "Didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."

Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once.

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" he asked excitedly.

"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.

"He's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, now walking around Harry and staring at him. "Light - speedy - we'll have to get him a decent broom, Professor - a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the  
first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year.  
Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape  
in the face for weeks..."

Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Harry.

"I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you."

Then she suddenly smiled.

"Your father would have been proud," she said. "He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You're joking."

It was dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling Ron and Vicky what had happened when he'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it.

"Seeker?" he said. "But first years never - you must be the youngest house player in about a century."

Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Harry, while Vicky just stared at him with her jaw hanging, her silver eyes wide.

"I start training next week," said Harry. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."  
Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Harry, and hurried over.

"Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too - Beaters."

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," said Fred. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."

"Anyway, we've got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret  
passageway out of the school."

"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you."

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only - no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Oh God, Harry don't, don't do it!" Vicky was furiously shaking her head, her curls flying around her head as she did. The boys ignored her.

"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.

"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

When Malfoy had gone, Ron and Harry looked at each other. "What is a wizard's duel?" said Harry. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually, getting started at last on his cold pie. Catching the look on Harry's face, he added quickly, "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"

"Throw it away and punch him on the nose," Ron suggested.

"Excuse me."

They both looked up. It was Hermione Granger.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron. Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying -"

"Bet you could," Ron muttered.

"Weasley, shut it!" growled Vicky.

"-and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be."

"It's really very selfish of you."

And it's really none of your business," said Harry.

Vicky groaned.

"Good-bye," said Ron.

Vicky glared at them and walked away after Hermione.

All the same, it wasn't what you'd call the perfect end to the day, Harry thought, as he lay awake much later listening to Dean and Seamus falling asleep (Neville wasn't back from the hospital wing). Ron had spent all evening giving him advice such as "If he tries to curse you, you'd better dodge it, because I can't remember how to block them."

There was a very good chance they were going to get caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris, and Harry felt he was pushing his luck, breaking another school rule today. On the other hand, Malfoys sneering face kept looming up out of the darkness - this was his big chance to beat Malfoy face-to-face. He couldn't miss it.

"Half-past eleven," Ron muttered at last, "we'd better go."

They pulled on their bathrobes, picked up their wands, and crept across the tower room, down the spiral staircase, and into the Gryffindor common room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. They had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them,

"I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry."

A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe  
and a frown.

"You!" said Ron furiously. "Go back to bed!"

"You two should listen to her! It isn't fair to the rest of us, Harry if you get caught and we lose points!" Vicky's pleading voice came from the stairs of the girl's dormitory.

Stupid boys, what were they thinking! Of course Malfoy wouldn't have shown up. Why couldn't they listen to her? Both she and Hermione had warned them, but no, they refused to listen to them.

Stupid obnoxious, idiots!

And Hermione! What was she thinking -following them outside the common room like that? She cursed herself for following her friend out with the boys.

Stupid Peeves. Stupid boys. Stupid Hermione. And stupid her.

They were lucky they didn't get caught by Filch.

Vicky suddenly shuddered. She hadn't been able to get the three-headed dog out of her head since then. She had never been that scared in her whole life until she saw the big creature looming over her in the darkness….

She muttered curses like this under her breath as she made her way to breakfast. She and Hermione had given the boys a talking to after their nighttime adventure and she had no intention of talking to any of them that morning.

Her train of thought moved on to more important matters. What was the dog guarding? Where did that trapdoor lead? What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide - except perhaps Hogwarts.

It looked as though they had found out where the grubby little package from vault seven hundred and thirteen was.

**Author's Note: See that little blue box down there? Click on it , I would love to know your thoughts and opinions and constructive criticism is VERY much appreciated.**

_**Read and Review, please!**_

_**XO**_


	6. Chapter 5: Just Stand Up

_**Disclaimer: Don't own anything recognizable. They are all the awesomeness of JK Rowling.**_

_**Author's Note: Hey! Just a little warning, I wouldn't be able to post from the 18**__**th**__** August to the 15**__**th**__** of September as I am going out of town and have exams. And I know it's a little early to tell you guys but I figured I should tell you before I forget. **_

_**Thanks for all the reviews and favourites!**_

_**Chapter 5: Just Stand Up**_

_Everything will be alright, yeah_

The heart is stronger  
Than you think  
It's like it can go  
Through anything  
And even when you think  
It can't it finds a way  
To still push on  
Though

Sometimes  
You want to run away  
Ain't got the patience  
For the pain  
And if you  
Don't believe it  
Look into  
Your heart  
The beat goes on

I'm tellin' you

Things get better  
Through_  
Whatever  
If you fall  
Dust it off  
Don't let up_

Don't you know  
You can go  
Be your own miracle

_You need to know_

If the mind

_Keeps thinking  
You've had enough  
But the heart  
Keeps telling you  
Don't give up  
Who are we to be  
Questioning  
Wondering what is what  
Don't give up  
Through it all  
Just stand up._

_**Just Stand Up; Mariah Carey , Beyonce, Mary J. Blige, Rihanna, Fergie, Sheryl Crow, Melissa Etheridge, Natasha Beddingfield, Miley Cyrus, Leona Lewis, Carrie Underwood, Keyshia Cole, Leann Rimes, Ashanti, Ciara.**__****_

Vicky glared at the boys as she sat down at breakfast, next to Hermione. She sent her best glare towards Malfoy. One day, that boy was going to get either him or Harry and Ron, expelled.

Malfoy, of course couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Harry and Ron at breakfast that morning. For those two though, last night's escapades had become a great adventure and were quite keen on having another one.

In the meantime, however Harry filled Ron in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.

"It's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Ron.

"Or both", said Harry and Vicky together.

Vicky sighed. There was really no point in giving the two boys the silent treatment for putting them in this predicament in the first place. She was just as curious about the grubby package from Gringotts as the boys.

But as all they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, they didn't have much chance of guessing what it was without further clues.

Neither Neville nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near the dog again.

Hermione was now refusing to speak to Harry and Ron, but she was such a bossy know-it-all that they saw this as an added bonus. She was being cold with Vicky as well, for talking to the boys, but Vicky knew she would come around, though she felt a little guilty. She hoped the boys would come around as well, but that was probably just wishful thinking. All they really wanted now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. Harry was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel, and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of him, knocking his bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.

Harry ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:

DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.

It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session.

Professor McGonagall

Harry had difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron and Vicky to read.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even touched one."

They left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class, but halfway across the entrance hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harry and felt it.

"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."

Vicky couldn't resist it.

"It's not any old broomstick", he said, "It's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Vicky grinned at Harry.

0"Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus," added Ron.

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."

Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow.

"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Malfoy quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir," said Harry, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy's face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it", he added.

Harry and Ron headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion.

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the package in Harry's hand.

"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Harry.

"Yes, don't stop now;" said Ron"; it's doing us so much good".

Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.

Harry had a lot of trouble keeping his mind on his lessons that day. It kept wandering up to the dormitory where his new broomstick was lying under his bed, or straying off to the Quidditch field where he'd be learning to play that night. He bolted his dinner that evening without noticing what he was eating, and then rushed upstairs with Ron and Vicky to unwrap the Nimbus Two Thousand at last.

"Wow," Ron sighed, as the broomstick rolled onto Harry's bedspread.

Even Harry, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top.

As seven o'clock drew nearer, Harry left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field. He'd never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. The reminded Harry of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high.

Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Harry mounted his broomstick and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling - he swooped in and out of the goal posts and then sped up and down the field. The Nimbus Two Thousand turned wherever he wanted at his lightest touch.

"Hey, Potter, come down!'

Oliver Wood had arrived. He was carrying a large wooden crate under his arm. Harry landed next to him.

"Very nice," said Wood, his eyes glinting. "I see what McGonagall meant... you really are a natural. I'm just going to teach you the rules this evening, then you'll be joining team practice three times a week."

He opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls.

"Right," said Wood. "Now, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play. There are seven players on each side. Three of them are called Chasers."

"Three Chasers," Harry repeated, as Wood took out a bright red ball about the size of a soccer ball.

"This ball's called the Quaffle," said Wood. "The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops. Follow me?"

"The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score", Harry recited. "So - that's sort of like basketball on broomsticks with six hoops, isn't it?"

"What's basketball?" said Wood curiously.

"Never mind," said Harry quickly.

"Now, there's another player on each side who's called the Keeper -I'm Keeper for Gryffindor. I have to fly around our hoops and stop the other team from scoring."

On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Vicky's partner was Harry. Ron, however, was to be working with Hermione. It was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this. She hadn't spoken to either of them since the day Harry's broomstick had arrived.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too - never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

It was very difficult. Vicky and Harry swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the desktop. Finally, after what seemed like a billion times, Vicky managed to make her feather hover a few inches over the table but lost her concentration when she heard the argument brewing in the table next to her and Harry.

It seemed that Ron, at the next table, wasn't having much luck.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.

"You're saying it wrong," Vicky heard Hermione snap. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it! Ten points to Gryffindor, Ms Granger and five points to you as well Ms van Pelt."

Vicky beamed at their tiny Charms Professor.

Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class. "It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Harry as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly."

Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Hermione.

Harry caught a glimpse of her face - and was startled to see that she was in tears.

"I think she heard you," Vicky said as she hurried past them after Hermione.

"So?" said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

That made Vicky stop and turn around fixing the Weasley boy with such a ferocious glare that he actually backed away, trying to subtly hide himself behind Harry and not succeeding at it.

"She's my friend, Weasley, in case you haven't noticed, Potter is your only friend as well, the only other people who talk to you are your brothers and that's only if they have nothing better to do."

She turned around and ran after Hermione.

Vicky was kneeling on the floor of the girls' bathroom and holding a sobbing Hermione in her arms as she tried to calm down the distraught girl. The two of them had already missed all their afternoon classes and lunch as well.

Vicky and Hermione were a lot more similar than everyone thought. Vicky, like Hermione had been bullied for her intelligence and her aloofness from other children her age from a very young age, but unlike Hermione, who had built a wall of books around herself to prevent herself from getting hurt, it had made Vicky even friendlier and determined to show others that she could be a friend too.

Their similarities were in a way, what made them so different from each other. Everyone saw Hermione as a bossy know-it-all at the best of times and compared her to a stern old lady at the worst, but if someone, like Vicky, actually took the time out to get to know her; they would see a sweet, caring and brilliant girl with a wicked sense of humour.

And right now Hermione needed a friend and Merlin help anyone who tried to separate the two girls now.

Just as Vicky was having these thoughts her stomach gave a massive growl, which was surely heard by Hermione as well, who looked up.

"You should go to dinner, Vicky. You have been here with me all afternoon and have already missed lunch. You're obviously hungry. Go eat. I will be there in a few minutes as well. I must look a fright."

Vicky gave her a sweet smile and helped Hermione up.

"Alright, are you sure you don't need me? I can wait till you get cleaned up and we can go down to dinner together." She asked Hermione, concern evident in her voice.

"No, it's alright. I need a few minutes to myself anyway."

"Alright then."

Vicky gave her friend a hug before leaving the bathroom.

Little did she know she would be coming back in less than five minutes.

Vicky was running to the Great Hall when she saw two very familiar figures running in her direction.

She stopped and glared at Weasley and looked at Harry questioningly.

"What's going on?"

"There's a troll in the school!" panted Harry, "We were coming to warn you and Hermione about the troll, since you girls weren't at dinner. How's Hermione anyway?"

"Much better, no thanks to you", said Vicky, coldly.

"Can you smell something?"

Harry and Vicky sniffed and a foul stench reached their nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

And then they heard it - a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Ron pointed - at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"The keys in the lock," Harry muttered. "We could lock it in."

"Good idea," said Ron nervously.

They edged toward the open door; leaving Vicky standing in the corridor open mouthed at their stupidity, mouths dry, praying the troll wasn't about to come out of it. With one great leap, Harry managed to grab the key, slam the door, and lock it.

"Yes!"

"NO! You idiots, that's the girls' bathroom! Hermione is in there!" screamed Vicky as her senses came back to her.

Then they heard something that made their hearts stop. A high-pitched petrified scream…..

….from the girls' bathroom.

Vicky sprinted back to the bathroom and burst inside. Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

"Confuse it!" hissed Vicky as she and Harry seized a tap and threw it at the troll.

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.

"Oy, pea-brain!" yelled Ron from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving Harry and Vicky time to run around it.

"Come on, run, run!" Harry yelled at Hermione, as Vicky tried to pull her towardthe door, but she couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape.

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped – it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club.

Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright, dragging Vicky down with her; Ron pulled out his own wand -

not knowing what he was going to do he heard himself cry the first spell that came into his head:

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

The club flew suddenly out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over - and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done. While Vicky was even paler than normal and looked like she was going to faint and clinging to Hermione as if her life depended on it.

It was Hermione who spoke first.

"Is it - dead?"

I don't think so," said Harry, I think it's just been knocked out."

He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

"Urgh - troll boogers."

He wiped it on the troll's trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron, Vicky and Harry. Harry had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white. Hopes of winning fifty points for Gryffindor faded quickly from Harry's mind.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Harry looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor. He wished Ron would put his wand down.

Then a small voice came out of the shadows.

"Please, Professor McGonagall - they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last.

I went looking for the troll because I - I thought I could deal with it on my own - you know, because I've read all about them."

Ron dropped his wand. Vicky looked at her in awe. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a

teacher?

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when Vicky and the boys came in.

Harry and Ron tried to look as though this story wasn't new to them, while Vicky gave them an innocent and scared look, that she had perfected so well.

"Well - in that case..." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the four of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hung her head. Harry was speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione left.

Professor McGonagall turned to Harry, Vicky and Ron.

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

They hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

"We should have gotten more than ten points," Ron grumbled.

"Five, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's."

"Good of her to get us out of trouble."

"Well now maybe you won't be so mean to her Weasley. You would have probably gotten expelled if she hadn't come up with that sob story", said Vicky, glaring at Ron.

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout," they said and entered.

The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. Vicky ran to her and hugged her tight, "Oh I shouldn't have left you alone in the bathroom! I was so scared!"

There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of them looking at each other, they all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates.

But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.

Vicky grinned. She didn't know it yet, but this was the beginning of a friendship that would later save the wizarding world, when the Golden Qaurtet would be formed.

_**Author's Note: Hey guys I know this chapter is short but I didn't want to write any further, it would been dragged on otherwise. It seemed like a good note to end it on as well.**_

_**Okay I have a favour to ask you guys, I really don't want to call them the Golden Quartet or Awesome Foursome or anything like that ( it's way too cliché) and I can't call them the Golden Trio either, it's obvious why, so write in your reviews any suggestions for a group name for Harry, Vicky, Hermione and Ron.**_

_**See that little blue box down there? Click on it and review! Reviews make my day and I love to hear what you think of A Bit of Lace. They also motivate me to update faster and write longer chapters.**_

_**Much love, **_

_**Lubaina.**_


	7. Chapter 6: Here's to Us

_**Disclaimer: I wouldn't be writing fanfiction if I was JK Rowling, would I? So obviously I don't own the Wonderful World of Harry Potter.**_

_**Thanks for all your reviews! **_

_**Chapter 6: Here's to Us**_

_We stuck it out this far together  
Put our dreams through the shredder  
Let's toast cause things  
Got Better_

And everything could change like that  
And all these years go by so fast  
But nothing lasts  
Forever 

_Here's to us  
Here's to love  
All the times the we messed up  
Here's to you  
Fill the glass  
Cause the last few nights have gone too fast  
If they give you hell  
Tell 'em to forget themselves  
Here's to us _

_**Here's to Us, Halestorm**_

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

Quidditch season began. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you", she said, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year. Harry thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter for President over the crowd. His heart skipped. He felt braver.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand. Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor - what

an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too -"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve - back to Johnson and - no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes - Flint flying like an eagle up there - he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle - that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and - OUCH - that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger - Quaffle taken by the Slytherins - that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger - sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which - nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes - she's really flying - dodges a speeding Bludger - the goal posts are ahead- come on, now, Angelina - Keeper Bletchley dives - misses - GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!"

Ron, Vicky and Hermione squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," said Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.

Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood's game plan.

"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be."

When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.

"All right there, Harry?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the - wait a moment - was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.

Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch -all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Harry was faster than Higgs - he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead - - he put on an extra spurt of speed - WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below - Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"

"What are you talking about, Dean?" said Ron.

"Red card!" said Dean furiously. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"

"But this isn't soccer, Dean," Ron reminded him.

Hagrid, however, was on Dean's side.

"They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air."

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.

"So - after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating "

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul"

'Jordan, I'm warning you -"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal- posts - he had half a mind to ask Wood to call time-out - and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

Lee was still commentating.

"Slytherin in possession - Flint with the Quaffle - passes Spinnet - passes Bell - hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose - only joking, Professor - Slytherins score - A no...

The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying- him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom... but he can't have..."

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic - no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."

At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.

"What are you doing?" moaned Vicky, gray-faced.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape - look."

Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.

"He's doing something - jinxing the broom," said Vicky, as realization dawned.

"What should we do?"

"Leave it to us," said Vicky and Hermione in unison. They looked at each other and grinned.

Before Ron could say another word, the girls had disappeared. Ron turned the binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good - every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell.

Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

"Come on, girls," Ron muttered desperately.

Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood,while Vicky kept lookout in the space beneath the stands and was now racing along the row behind him; she didn't even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front.

Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered a few, well- chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from her wand onto the hem of Snape's robes It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire.

A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. Scooping the fire off him into a little jar in her pocket,and throwing it to Vicky who was standing down she scrambled back along the row -

Snape would never know what had happened.

It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom.

"Neville, you can look!" Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes.

Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick - he hit the field on all fours - coughed - and something gold fell into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference - Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results -

Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harry heard none of this, though. He was being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut, with Ron, Vicky and Hermione.

"It was Snape," Vicky was explaining, "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

The four children looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Harry decided on the truth.

"I found out something about him," he told Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him."

" We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding," added Vicky, who was absent mindedly drawing the three head dog as she remembered it on a piece of parchment on Hagrid's table.

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said, staring at Vicky's drawing.

"Fluffy?"

"Yeah - he's mine - bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year - I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the….."

"Yes?" said Harry eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Vicky.

The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about Snape. "I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all four of yeh - yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel -"

"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban._**(They were basically throwing snowballs at Moldywart's face. Hee hee.)**_ The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms.

Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled.

Vicky, who was helping Harry measure out powdered spine of lionfish, muttered to Harry to ignore them. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he'd realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family.

It was true that Harry wasn't going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry had signed up at once. He didn't feel sorry for himself at all; this would probably be the best Christmas he'd ever had. Ron and his brothers were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie. Vicky was also staying as her mother and step father were going to the States for a book tour.

When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Vicky asked, sticking her head through the branches.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Vicky."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking.

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.

"Just one," said Hermione. "And that reminds me -Harry, Ron,Vicky, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library."

"Oh yeah, you're right," said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.

"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"Oh, we're not working," Vicky told him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."

"You what?" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here - I've told yeh – drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," said Hermione.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added.

"We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere - just give us a hint - I know I've read his name somewhere," chimed in Vicky.

"I'm sayin' nothin, said Hagrid flatly.

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Ron, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.

They had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn't in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Time; he was missing, too, from Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.

Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Harry looked around the shelves which mostly dedicated to exceptional and famous wizards. Vicky wandered over to the Restricted Section.

She had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and he knew he'd never get one. These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"What are you looking for, girl?"

"Nothing," said Vicky.

Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at her.

"You'd better get out, then. Go on - out!"

Wishing she'd been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Vicky left the library. She,Harry, Ron, and Hermione had already agreed they'd better not ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure she'd be able to tell them, but they couldn't risk Snape hearing what they were up to.

Harry waited outside in the corridor to see if the other three had found anything, but he wasn't very hopeful. They had been looking for two weeks, after A, but as they only had odd moments between lessons it wasn't surprising they'd found nothing. What they really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks.

Five minutes later, Ron, Vicky and Hermione joined him, shaking their heads. They went off to lunch.

"You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" said Hermione. "And send me an owl if you find anything."

"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," said Ron. "It'd be safe to ask them."

"Very safe, as they're both dentists," said Hermione.

Once the holidays had started, Ron, Vicky and Harry were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. They had the dormitory to themselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork - bread, English muffins, marshmallows -or at least the boys did, while Vicky watched them with an odd expression of amusement and disgust as she delicately ate her own dinner- and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn't work.

Ron also started teaching Harry and Vicky wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron's set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family - in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted. But it turned out that Vicky was just as good at chess as Ron even though she had never played wizard's chess in her life. She developed an uncanny knack for foreshadowing Ron's moves and counteracted them before he could even execute them. Vicky soon became probably the first person in history to beat a Weasley at chess…

….A thing which Ron wasn't happy with at all. He sulked for nearly two hours after that game and challenged Vicky to three rematches before he was convinced that he was not going to beat Vicky at chess for quite a while.

Harry played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent him, and they didn't trust him at all. He wasn't a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing. "Don't send me there, can't you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him."

On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all.

Vicky woke up on Christmas morning feeling deliriously happy. As much as she loved Christmas at home, this could easily be classified as the best Christmas ever. Hogwarts was like winter wonderland during this time and Vicky planned on taking full advantage of it.

She yawned and rolled over to look at her clock. It was just 6 in the morning, but Vicky was not going to fall asleep anytime soon so she put on her dressing gown and went down into the common room.

She sat at one of the enormous bay windows and looked down onto the grounds. The Hogwarts castle was a truly beautiful place and the light snowfall over the grounds and the forbidden forest was making her feel as though she had landed in Narnia.

She pulled out her sketch book and some coloured ink, along with her pencils. She flipped through the pages and looked at all the sketches she had done since coming to Hogwarts. There was one she had done a week ago of Harry and Ron battling it out over a chess board. And one she had made of Hagrid and Fang on a cold November morning as they were trudging through the snow. There was one of Harry posing with his brand new Nimbus Two Thousand and one of the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team in the air during one of their practices. There was even one of Hermione asleep over her books in the library. Vicky smiled to herself and proceeded to sketch an extremely detailed sketch of the grounds as seen from the window she was sitting at.

She was so lost in the drawing she nearly didn't hear two sets of footsteps thundering down the stairs of the boys' dormitories.

Nearly being the operative word in that statement.

A black haired blur threw itself at her and shouted "Merry Christmas!" just as a similar red haired blur lunged at her. The three children fell off the window seat laughing.

"Wow, you boys are up early," said Vicky smiling. It was only half past seven, and it was unusual for each of the two boys to wake up earlier than nine.

"Oh well, IT's CHRISTMAS!" shouted Ron.

Meanwhile, Harry was staring at a pile of presents under the Christmas tree that seemed to be addressed to him. Vicky groaned inwardly, she hadn't even looked for her presents! She wondered what had gotten into her, she was always the first one near the presents at home.

"Will you look at this? I've got some presents!" exclaimed Harry.

"What did you expect, turnips?" said Ron, turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than Harry's.

Vicky was unwrapping a little jewellery box, from her parents. She already knew what it would be –they got her a new charm for her bracelet every Christmas and birthday. This time it was a little lion symbolizing the Gryffindor house. She smiled as Harry helped her hook it to her bracelet which already had a heart, a clover, a ruby slipper, a clock, a cat, a paintbrush, a dove, and an orchid dangling from it.

There was a book on magical beasts from Hermione and a Weasley sweater made by Ron's mother with a giant scarlet V on its front. It was the exact same silver as her eyes. She beamed at Ron and thanked him.

Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harry, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it - it sounded a bit like an owl.

A second, very small parcel contained a note.

We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece.

"That's friendly," said Vicky.

Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence.

"Weird!" he said, "What a shame! This is money?"

Harry had torn open another parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge from Mrs. Weasley.

"Every year she makes us a sweater," said Ron, unwrapping his own, "and mine's always maroon."

"That's really nice of her," said Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty.

His next present also contained candy - a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione.

He opened Vicky's present. It was a framed painting of the Hogwarts castle that Vicky had done herself. She had written "Hogwarts will always be your home. Ps: this is for when you go back to those awful people in the summer so that you could look at Hogwarts whenever you wanted. Love, Vicky."

Harry hugged Vicky. It was a truly beautiful painting.

Ron had also gotten a drawing from Vicky, it was one of him with his brothers, Fred and George.

Harry had given Vicky an assortment of candy, which mostly consisted of chocolates.

This only left one parcel for Harry. Harry picked it up and felt it. It was very light. He unwrapped it. Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.

"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavor Beans he'd gotten from Hermione. "If that's what I think it is - they're really rare, and really valuable."

"What is it?" asked Vicky.

Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

"It's an invisibility cloak," said Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is - try it on."

Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell.

"It is! Look down!"

Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely.

"There's a note!" said Vicky suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words: Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.

A Very Merry Christmas to you.

There was no signature. Harry stared at the note. Ron was admiring the cloak.

"I'd give anything for one of these," he said. "Anything. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," said Harry. He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father?

Before he could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. Harry stuffed the cloak quickly out of sight. He didn't feel like sharing it with anyone else yet.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Hey, look – Harry and Vicky got a Weasley sweater, too!"

Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G.

"Theirs is better than ours, though," said Fred, holding up Harry's sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demanded. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."

"I hate maroon," Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over his head.

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid - we know we're called Gred and Forge."

"What's all this noise?"

Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seized.

"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry and Vicky got one."

"I - don't - want to,"said Percy thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," said George. "Christmas is a time for family."

They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater.

Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce - and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice. Harry watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided.

When Harry finally left the table, he was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of nonexplodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and Harry had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs. Norris's Christmas dinner.

Harry, Vicky and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry broke in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron and Vicky after that. He suspected he wouldn't have lost so badly if Percy hadn't tried to help him so much.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge.

It had been Harry's best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbed into bed was he free to think about it: the invisibility cloak and whoever had sent it.

Ron, full of turkey and cake and with nothing mysterious to bother him, fell asleep almost as soon as he'd drawn the curtains of his four-poster. Harry leaned over the side of his own bed and pulled the cloak out from under it.

His father's... this had been his father's. He let the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note had said.

He had to try it, now. He slipped out of bed and wrapped the cloak around himself. Looking down at his legs, he saw only moonlight and shadows. It was a very funny feeling.

Use it well.

Suddenly, Harry felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him in this cloak. Excitement flooded through him as he stood there in the dark and silence. He could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.

Ron grunted in his sleep. Should Harry wake him? Something held him back - his father's cloak - he felt that this time - the first time – he wanted to use it alone.

He crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole.

"Who's there?" squawked the Fat Lady. Harry said nothing. He walked quickly down the corridor.

Where should he go? He stopped, his heart racing, and thought. And then it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library. He'd be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was.

He set off, drawing the invisibility cloak tight around him as he walked.

The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Harry could feel his arm supporting it, the sight gave him the creeps.

The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Step ping carefully over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library, he held up his lamp to read the titles.

They didn't tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harry couldn't understand. Some had no title at all. One book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickled. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe not, but he thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn't be.

He had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, he looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting looking book. A large black and silver volume caught his eye. He pulled it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, let it fall open.

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence - the book was screaming! Harry snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbled backward and knocked over his lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside - stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, he ran for it. He passed Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through him, and Harry slipped under Filch's outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in his ears.

He came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He had been so busy getting away from the library, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going. Perhaps because it was dark, he didn't recognize where he was at all. There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, he knew, but he must be five floors above there.

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library Restricted Section."

Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he was, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to his horror, it was Snape who replied,

"The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

Harry stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. They couldn't see him, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they came much nearer they'd knock right into him - the cloak didn't stop him from being solid.

He backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to his left. It was his only hope. He squeezed through it, holding his breath, trying not to move it, and to his relief he managed to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walked straight past, and Harry leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. That had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before he noticed anything about the room he had hidden in.

It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket - but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. His panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again. He stepped in front of it.

He had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirled around. His heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed - for he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.

But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror.

There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Harry looked over his shoulder - but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? Was he in fact in a room full of invisible people and this mirror's trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?

He looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she was really there, he'd touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air - she and the others existed only in the mirror.

She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes – her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green - exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry's did.

Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection.

"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?"

They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry's knobbly knees - Harry was looking at his family, for the first time in his Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.

How long he stood there, he didn't know. The reflections did not fade and he looked and looked until a distant noise brought him back to his senses. He couldn't stay here, he had to find his way back to bed. He tore his eyes away from his mother's face, whispered, "I'll come back," and hurried from the room.

"You could have woken me up," said Ron, crossly.

"You can come tonight, I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror."

"I'd like to see your mom and dad," Vicky said eagerly.

"And I want to see all your family, all the Weasleys, you'll be able to show me your other brothers and everyone," said Harry to Ron.

"You can see them any old time," said Ron. "Just come round my house this summer. Anyway, maybe it only shows dead people. Shame about not finding Flamel, though. Have some bacon or something, why aren't you eating anything?"

Harry couldn't eat. He had seen his parents and would be seeing them again tonight. He had almost forgotten about Flamel. It didn't seem very important anymore. Who cared what the three headed dog was guarding? What did it matter if Snape stole it, really?

"Are you all right?" said Vicky. "You look odd."

What Harry feared most was that he might not be able to find the mirror room again. With Ron and Vicky covered in the cloak, too, they had to walk much more slowly the next night. They tried retracing Harry's route from the library, wandering around the dark passageways for nearly an hour.

"I'm freezing," said Ron. "Let's forget it and go back."

"No!" Harry hissed. "I know it's here somewhere."

They passed the ghost of a tall witch gliding in the opposite direction, but saw no one else. just as Ron started moaning that his feet were dead with cold, Harry spotted the suit of armor.

"It's here - just here - yes!"

They pushed the door open. Harry dropped the cloak from around his shoulders and ran to the mirror.

There they were. His mother and father beamed at the sight of him. "See?" Harry whispered.

"I can't see anything."

"Look! Look at them all... there are loads of them..."

"I can only see you."

"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am."

Harry stepped aside, but with Ron in front of the mirror, he couldn't see his family anymore, just Ron in his paisley pajamas.

Ron, though, was staring transfixed at his image.

"Look at me!" he said.

"Can you see all your family standing around you?"

"No - I'm alone - but I'm different - I look older - and I'm head boy!"

"What?"

"I am - I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to - and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup - I'm Quidditch captain, too."

Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry.

"Do you think this mirror shows the future?"

"How can it? All my family are dead - let me have another look -"

"You had it to yourself all last night, give me a bit more time."

"You're only holding the Quidditch cup, what's interesting about that? I want to see my parents."

"Don't push me -"

Vicky looked at her reflection in the mirror, while Ron and Harry argued about what the mirror was for.

She saw an older version of herself playing chaser for the Gryffindor quidditch team. She frowned, she had no idea how to play Quidditch. She was fascinated by the game yes and planned on learning it and maybe one day joining….the….team…

"Boys! This mirror shows what we desire the most!"

"Desire? You mean, that I have a secret wish to become Head Boy?"

"Obviously Weasley, or you wouldn't be seeing that."

"But—"

A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to their discussion. They hadn't realized how loudly they had been talking.

"Quick!"

Ron threw the cloak back over them as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came round the door. Ron and Harry stood quite still, all three thinking the same thing - did the cloak work on cats? After what seemed an age, she turned and left.

"This isn't safe - she might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us. Come on."

And Ron pulled Harry and Vicky out of the room.

The snow still hadn't melted the next morning.

"Want to play chess, Harry?" said Ron.

"No."

"Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?" asked Vicky.

"No... you go..."

"I know what you're thinking about, Harry, that mirror. Don't go back tonight," she said.

"Why not?"

"I dunno, I've just got a bad feeling about it - and anyway, you've had too many close shaves already. Filch, Snape, and Mrs. Norris are wandering around. So what if they can't see you? What if they walk into you? What if you knock something over?"

"You sound like Hermione."

"I'm serious, Harry, don't go."

But Harry only had one thought in his head, which was to get back in front of the mirror, and Ron and Vicky weren't going to stop him.

That third night he found his way more quickly than before. He was walking so fast he knew he was making more noise than was wise, but he didn't meet anyone.

And there were his mother and father smiling at him again, and one of his grandfathers nodding happily. Harry sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. Nothing at all.

Except -

"So - back again, Harry?"

Harry felt as though his insides had turned to ice. He looked behind him. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Harry must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror he hadn't noticed him.

" - I didn't see you, sir."

"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore, and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling.

"So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"I didn't know it was called that, Sir."

"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?"

"It - well - it shows me my family -"

"And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy."

"How did you know -?"

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," said Dumbledore gently.

"Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"

Harry shook his head.

"Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

Harry thought. Then he said slowly, "It shows us what we want...whatever we want...thats what Vicky said."

"Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. Vicky, who is entranced by the magical world sees herself as a Quidditch player. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible. The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Harry stood up.

"Sir - Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."

Harry stared.

"One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But then, he thought, as he shoved Scabbers off his pillow, it had been quite a personal question.

**Author's Note: Phew! This chapter was long! I had to most of it from Harry's point of view because when I tried to do Quidditch from Vicky's POV I realized I can't write Quidditch scenes. Plus I didn't want to skip out on the mirror of erised either. It's a very special scene for Harry. Its also one of my favourite chapters from the book. *****Sigh.*******

**I just realized I will have to do two more chapters before the Philosopher's Stone part of this fanfic is completed. At least I hope so.**

**Anyway, why don't you review? Tell me what you think? Good? Bad? Too dragged on?**

**Click that blue button down there!**


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